Mason moved cautiously through the factory, every sense on high alert. The distant hum of machinery and the occasional clank of metal echoed around him as he advanced. Rounding a corner, he spotted three Raiders standing near a cluster of crates, their weapons unfamiliar to him. One held a Laser Rifle, another a Combat Shotgun, and the third gripped a crude Pipe Revolver.

"What the hell are these guys carrying?" Mason whispered to himself, eyeing their gear with a mix of curiosity and concern.

The Raiders hadn't noticed him yet, giving him the upper hand. He quickly ducked behind a pillar, formulating a plan. The Raider with the Pipe Revolver stood closest to him, making him the first target. Moving silently, Mason crept forward, his movements swift and practiced. In a fluid motion, he grabbed the Raider from behind, pulling him into a chokehold. The Raider struggled for a moment before going limp, the revolver slipping from his grasp.

Mason picked up the weapon, inspecting it with a smirk. "Strange-looking piece of junk," he muttered, "but it'll do."

Nearby, the remaining two Raiders continued their conversation, oblivious to their fallen comrade.

"I can't wait to roast these guys with this thing," the Raider with the Laser Rifle boasted, his voice full of cruel anticipation. "They'll never know what hit 'em."

The other Raider chuckled, hefting his Combat Shotgun. "Bet I'll drop 'em faster with this beauty."

Mason didn't waste any time. Stepping out of the shadows, he raised the Pipe Revolver and fired, the shot striking the Raider with the Laser Rifle square in the chest. The Raider crumpled to the ground, his weapon clattering beside him. The Raider with the Combat Shotgun spun around, eyes wide with shock.

"Where the hell did you come from?" he yelled.

Mason closed the distance quickly, using the revolver like a club. He slammed it into the shotgun, knocking it from the Raider's hands, before following up with a brutal strike to the man's temple. The Raider staggered, then collapsed, unconscious.

"Thanks for the gear, boys," Mason said with a smirk, grabbing the Combat Shotgun. He checked it over quickly, satisfied with his new weapon. "Not bad. Let's see how well this works."

He moved deeper into the building, the Combat Shotgun proving its worth as he blasted through the remaining Raiders with ease. The powerful weapon tore through cover and enemies alike, leaving destruction in its wake.

"These guys are packing serious heat," Mason muttered grimly as he paused to catch his breath. "Where the hell did they get this stuff?"

Before he could dwell on the thought, he was suddenly tackled from behind by a large figure. It was Crazy Jack's right-hand man, and he was skilled. The impact sent the Combat Shotgun skittering across the floor as the Raider grappled with Mason, trying to overpower him.

"You picked the wrong guy to mess with," Mason growled through gritted teeth.

The Raider grinned, his eyes filled with malice as he tightened his grip, attempting to choke Mason. But Mason wasn't one to go down easily. With a sharp elbow to the Raider's ribs, he broke free of the hold, spinning around to face his opponent. The two men engaged in a brutal hand-to-hand fight, each using their military training to gain the upper hand.

The Raider slammed Mason into a nearby wall, but Mason retaliated with a powerful headbutt, dazing his opponent. Seizing the moment, Mason swept the Raider's legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. But the man was resilient, quickly scrambling back to his feet.

Meanwhile, Frank Woods moved through the factory, his M16 at the ready. He was on edge, every muscle tense as he searched for any sign of the enemy. Rounding a corner, he came face-to-face with another group of Raiders, their weapons as strange as the ones Mason had encountered. One carried a Laser Musket, another held a Pipe Pistol, and the third wielded a massive Super Sledge.

"What the hell are these guys carrying?" Woods snarled, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

The Raiders spotted him instantly, their faces lighting up with vicious glee. The one with the Laser Musket grinned as he began cranking the weapon.

"This'll roast ya!" the Raider taunted, aiming the musket at Woods.

Woods reacted in a flash, diving behind a stack of crates just as the musket fired. The beam of energy seared through the air, scorching the wall where Woods had stood moments before.

"Oh, that's how it's gonna be, huh?" Woods muttered grimly, his mind racing.

Peeking out from behind cover, he spotted the Raider with the Pipe Pistol. The man fired wildly, bullets pinging off the metal around Woods. He waited for a brief lull in the gunfire before popping out and squeezing the trigger of his M16. The shot was precise, catching the Raider in the chest and dropping him instantly.

"One down," Woods muttered coldly.

The Raider with the Super Sledge roared in anger, charging at Woods with the massive weapon raised. Woods barely had time to react, rolling out of the way as the sledgehammer came crashing down, splintering the crates into pieces. Without hesitation, Woods fired a burst from his M16, the rounds tearing through the Raider's torso.

"Two," Woods said breathlessly, taking a moment to collect himself.

But his moment of respite was cut short by a heavy, mechanical footstep behind him. Woods turned, his eyes widening as a Raider clad in Power Armor stepped into view, a Gatling Laser clutched in his hands. The armor hummed with power, and the sight of it made Woods pause.

"What is that shit?" Woods whispered to himself, eyeing the deadly weapon.

The Raider in the Power Armor grinned beneath his helmet, leveling the Gatling Laser at Woods.

"You're about to find out the hard way, soldier boy!" the Raider taunted as the weapon began to spin up.

Woods dove for cover as the Gatling Laser roared to life, energy bolts slamming into the wall behind him, sending sparks and debris flying.

"Gotta think... can't take that thing head-on," Woods muttered, his mind racing for a solution.

He scanned the area quickly, his eyes landing on a rusted steel beam hanging precariously above the Raider, held up by a weakened chain. The Raider, too focused on finding Woods, remained oblivious to the danger above him.

Frank Woods grinned, his eyes locked on the towering Power Armored Raider. "Let's see how tough you are without that fancy armor," he muttered under his breath.

Moving low, Woods crawled out of sight, slipping into position. He carefully lined up his shot, aiming for the chain holding a heavy beam overhead. With a steady breath, he squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, and the chain snapped. The beam came crashing down onto the Raider with a deafening thud.

The impact knocked the Raider off balance, the weight of the armor making it difficult to recover. Woods didn't waste the opportunity. He sprinted out of cover, grabbed a nearby crowbar, and slammed it into the joints of the Raider's armor, aiming to cripple its mobility.

The Power Armored Raider roared in frustration, struggling to swing his Gatling Laser around, but the damage to his joints made movement nearly impossible. Woods kept up the assault, jamming the crowbar into the helmet, prying it loose.

"Get off me, you son of a—" the Raider snarled, his voice filled with rage.

With one final push, Woods dislodged the helmet, exposing the Raider's face. Without hesitation, he pulled out his sidearm and fired point-blank, ending the fight in an instant.

Breathing heavily, Woods stepped back, surveying the motionless Raider at his feet. "Not so tough now, are you?" he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. He took a moment to check his surroundings, ensuring no other threats were nearby.

Satisfied that the area was clear, Woods tapped his earpiece. "Mason, my section's clear. How're you holding up?" Static crackled in his ear, but there was no response. Woods frowned, his concern growing. "Mason, you there?" he tried again, this time more urgently.

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Meanwhile, Alex Mason was locked in a brutal hand-to-hand fight with Crazy Jack's right-hand man. The Raider was relentless, matching Mason blow for blow. The two men grappled and traded punches, neither willing to back down. Woods' voice crackled through Mason's earpiece, but he was too preoccupied to respond.

"Not... now..." Mason growled through gritted teeth, just as the Raider landed a heavy punch to his midsection. Mason staggered, the wind knocked out of him, but he quickly recovered, countering with a powerful uppercut that sent the Raider stumbling backward.

"You're tough," the Raider snarled, wiping blood from his mouth, "but I'm not going down easy!"

The Raider charged at Mason again, and the two locked into another fierce exchange of strikes, the tension mounting with each blow. Mason's focus was entirely on the fight, making it impossible for him to respond to Woods.

Back on the other side of the factory, Woods scowled as he realized something was wrong. "Damn it, Mason... What the hell's going on over there?" he muttered, gripping his weapon tighter as he started moving quickly through the factory, his senses on high alert.

Deeper within the factory, Avery Johnson stood firm at a narrow choke point, his BR55 Battle Rifle aimed at the approaching horde of Raiders. The sound of their boots echoed through the metal corridors, growing louder with each passing second.

"Alright, you bastards," Johnson muttered to himself, his voice determined. "Come and get it."

The first wave of Raiders burst into view, armed with a hodgepodge of weapons from the wasteland—Pipe Pistols, Hunting Rifles, and Combat Shotguns. Johnson opened fire with precise, controlled bursts, cutting down the leading Raiders with practiced ease.

"He's alone! Rush him!" one of the Raiders yelled.

They surged forward, trying to overwhelm Johnson with sheer numbers. He shifted his aim, taking out enemies with headshots, but the horde kept coming, pressing him back step by step.

"We got you surrounded!" another Raider taunted, grinning wickedly.

Unfazed, Johnson reached into his vest, pulled out a frag grenade, and lobbed it into the midst of the Raiders. The explosion rocked the factory, sending bodies flying. But more Raiders appeared from the smoke, undeterred by the carnage.

Johnson retreated a few steps, reloading as he kept up the suppressive fire. The relentless assault began to wear him down, and the Raiders pressed harder, some trying to flank him. Johnson quickly dispatched those on his left before shifting to his right, his shots finding their mark with deadly precision. But he was being pushed back further into the factory.

"You're done, old man!" a Raider jeered. "We're gonna tear you apart!"

Johnson gritted his teeth, refusing to give in. Just as the Raiders closed in, a thunderous crash echoed through the factory. The wall to his right exploded inward, debris flying in all directions. Johnson turned, his eyes widening in surprise.

"About damn time..." he muttered, a grin forming on his face.

Out of the dust and rubble stepped Master Chief, his energy shield shimmering as he surveyed the battlefield. Without a word, he raised his MA5D Assault Rifle and opened fire, cutting down the nearest Raiders with ruthless efficiency.

"What the hell is that?!" one Raider screamed in terror.

"Shit! He's got power armor!" another Raider shouted, panic spreading through their ranks.

The Raiders scattered, firing wildly at Chief, but their bullets bounced harmlessly off his armor as he advanced, his shots precise and deadly. Johnson, seizing the moment, resumed his attack, the two soldiers working in perfect sync.

"Take them down, Chief!" Johnson called out, grinning as he covered Chief's advance.

Master Chief moved with unstoppable force, mowing down the Raiders with ease. Johnson provided cover fire, picking off any who tried to regroup. The remaining Raiders, realizing they were outmatched, turned to flee, but it was too late. Chief and Johnson closed in, finishing them off one by one.

As the last Raider fell, the factory grew eerily silent, the only sounds the distant echoes of the ongoing battle elsewhere.

"That was close," Johnson said, breathing heavily but grinning. "Glad you could make it, Chief."

Master Chief turned to Johnson, his visor reflecting the dim light of the factory. "Let's move." he replied calmly.

Johnson nodded, and the two soldiers began moving out, ready to rejoin the others. Just as they were about to leave, the sound of boots clanging on metal echoed through the factory. A squad of Marines rushed in, weapons at the ready. They paused, taking in the scene of destruction.

"Sir!" the Marine leader called out, slightly out of breath. "We're here to assist... but it looks like you've got it covered."

Johnson smirked, giving them a nod. "Nice of you to join the party, boys. But yeah, we've got this handled. Better late than never."

The Marines exchanged awkward glances, a mix of relief and embarrassment at their tardiness. Master Chief gave them a nod, his expression unreadable behind his helmet. The Marines quickly fell in line behind Johnson and Chief, ready for action.

"Let's move out," Johnson ordered, his tone serious. "We've still got a job to do."

With renewed determination, the combined force of Master Chief, Johnson, and the Marines advanced deeper into the factory, ready for whatever came next.

Mason and Crazy Jack's right-hand man were locked in a brutal struggle. Both men were bloodied and exhausted, but neither was willing to back down. The Raider's eyes burned with fury as he drew a combat knife from his belt, the blade glinting menacingly in the dim light.

"Time to end this, soldier boy," the Raider snarled, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

With a vicious lunge, the Raider slashed at Mason. Mason narrowly dodged, the blade slicing through the air just inches from his face. The Raider pressed the attack, forcing Mason to backpedal, parrying the strikes with his forearms and dodging as best he could.

"Not today, asshole," Mason growled through gritted teeth.

They grappled, each struggling to gain control of the knife. The Raider's strength was formidable, but Mason's military training took over. He twisted the Raider's wrist, trying to force the blade out of his hand, but the Raider countered with a vicious knee to Mason's gut, momentarily winding him.

"You're dead!" the Raider roared as he slammed Mason against the wall, pressing the knife dangerously close to his throat. Mason strained with every muscle, fighting to keep the blade away. The tip of the knife grazed his skin, drawing a thin line of blood.

With a burst of adrenaline, Mason twisted his body, using the wall as leverage. He threw the Raider off balance, causing the knife to miss its mark. Seizing the moment, Mason grabbed the Raider's wrist with both hands and slammed it against the wall. The knife clattered to the ground.

"You're gonna pay for that!" the Raider grunted, grimacing in pain.

The Raider desperately lunged for the knife, but Mason was quicker. He kicked it across the floor, well out of reach. The Raider's eyes widened in panic as he realized he was now unarmed.

"Not so tough without your toys, huh?" Mason said coldly.

The Raider charged at Mason with his bare hands, but Mason was ready. He grabbed the Raider by the collar and drove a powerful knee into his gut, doubling him over. Mason followed with a brutal elbow to the back of the Raider's head, sending him crashing to the ground.

As the Raider tried to rise, Mason didn't hesitate. He grabbed the fallen knife, flipped it in his hand, and in one swift motion, drove it into the Raider's side. The Raider gasped, his strength draining away as he slumped to the floor, defeated.

"You picked the wrong guy to mess with," Mason muttered, breathing heavily.

Mason stood over the motionless body, chest heaving from the exertion. The adrenaline began to wear off, and exhaustion set in. His legs felt weak, and he stumbled back, collapsing onto the cold, hard ground. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing.

"Shit... that was close," Mason whispered to himself, his voice strained.

For a moment, the factory fell into an eerie silence. Mason allowed himself a brief respite, his mind drifting from the chaos for just a moment. But the distant sounds of gunfire and battle soon reminded him that the fight was far from over.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by hurried footsteps. Woods, weapon at the ready, rushed into view. His eyes widened when he saw Mason slumped on the ground.

"Shit, you alright, brother?" Woods asked, crouching beside him.

Mason opened his eyes and gave a faint nod, still too winded to speak. Woods scanned the area, ensuring the threat was neutralized before turning back to Mason.

"Tough bastard, huh? But you're tougher," Woods said with a grin.

Before Mason could respond, more footsteps echoed through the factory. Agent Jonesy appeared, followed closely by the massive figure of the Arbiter. Woods jumped back in shock, weapon raised, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Shit! What the fuck is that?!" Woods yelled, backing up clumsily.

Mason, still sitting on the ground, stared up at the Arbiter, his own surprise evident.

"You've gotta be kidding me..." Mason breathed.

Woods, still reeling, pointed his weapon at the Arbiter. "Get back, you overgrown lizard!"

Jonesy quickly stepped forward, hands raised in a calming gesture. "Whoa, whoa, easy, guys! He's a friend. This is the Arbiter—he's on our side."

Woods didn't lower his weapon. "On our side?! That thing?! What kind of nightmare is this? Does it bite?"

The Arbiter remained calm, his deep, resonant voice cutting through the tension. "Allow me to assist you." He extended a hand toward Mason.

Woods stumbled backward, eyes wide in shock. "It can talk?! You've gotta be fucking kidding me!"

Mason hesitated for a moment, still processing the surreal situation. Slowly, he reached up and took the Arbiter's hand. The alien effortlessly pulled Mason to his feet. Once Mason was steady, the Arbiter turned to offer his hand to Woods.

"And you as well," the Arbiter said.

Woods swatted the hand away. "Keep those damn claws off me, man! I don't need your help!"

Jonesy stepped in quickly, trying to defuse the situation. "Woods, I get it, this is a lot. But trust me, he's a friend. We're all in this together."

Woods glared at the Arbiter, suspicion still etched on his face. "Does this thing have rabies or something?!"

Jonesy chuckled awkwardly. "Uh, no rabies, Woods. He's all good. Trust me."

The Arbiter tilted his head slightly, bemused by the comment. "I assure you, human, I am free of any such afflictions."

Woods reluctantly holstered his weapon, muttering under his breath. "This day just keeps getting weirder..."

Mason shook his head, still trying to absorb everything that had just happened. "We need to split up again. We have to find Noriega before he slips away."

The Arbiter tilted his head. "Who is this Noriega?"

"He's one of our targets. We need to capture him alive," Mason explained, his tone urgent.

Suddenly, the sound of more footsteps echoed through the factory. Woods scowled, his frustration mounting.

"Scratch that plan," Woods growled. "We've got more company."

Before they could act, Hudson's voice crackled over the comms. "Mason, Woods, you need to wrap this up ASAP. The police are on the way."

"What's their ETA?" Woods asked.

There was a brief pause before Hudson replied. "You've got about 40 minutes, tops."

Woods cursed under his breath. "Shit. We need to finish this now."

Jonesy stepped forward, quickly formulating a plan. "We'll hold them off. You two go find Noriega. We'll buy you some time."

Mason and Woods exchanged a glance, then nodded in agreement. Without wasting any more time, they moved out, heading deeper into the factory in search of their target.

As they disappeared into the shadows, Woods muttered under his breath. "I'm not getting over that lizard any time soon..."

Jonesy and the Arbiter readied themselves, prepared to face the incoming wave of Raiders as Mason and Woods vanished into the darkness.